Questioning
by Misaki Rika
Summary: Yuuri has anxiety and it can be overwhelming, depressing. It can send him into a spiral of self-hate...but there is someone who always meets him where he is.


**Questioning**

Yuuri had anxiety. It really wasn't a secret to anyone who knew him personally. Hell, it really wasn't a secret period. He was an international figure, he was in the spotlight in many ways. People saw when he broke down. Articles were written when he broke down, articles were written wondering when the next breakdown would be, wondering if he couldn't handle the pressure. Sometimes he could take on a "screw you!" attitude and use the media's doubts and naysaying as motivation, use the drive to prove them all wrong as a drive to perform at his top level. But most of the time, it ate at him. It confirmed his own doubts, it reinforced the voice in his head, it made his anxiety thrive.

Yuuri lived with this negative voice in his head. Most of the time it whispered quietly, the words hard to make out, easily ignored. He could pretend it wasn't there, push the thoughts to the back of his mind and almost, _almost_ , not even hear them. He could be confident and secure with himself. He didn't feel as though he cared for others more than they cared for him. He didn't feel useless and incompetent and burdensome. He didn't feel unworthy of his loved ones, he didn't feel unworthy of Victor. He was steady and sure. Those were the times when we could be forward and open. When he could pull Victor to him and make him weak in the knees. He could be with him and not feel the need to cover and conceal himself. He could tease and play with his lover until those breathy pleads broke his control and he also gave into the passions. He could plan, take the lead, take charge.

But sometimes the voice was thunderous.

It needled at him and drove its dark vines into the cracks of his assuredness. It made his feel heavy with sorrow and guilt. He was never even sure exactly what he felt guilty about; existing? The voice made him lonely. The voice made him afraid. Worst of all though, it made him question. It made him question everything. Was he good enough? Was everything ok? How could he think he could do any of this? What had he done wrong? Was Victor angry? Was he loved? Was he worthy of love? Should he even be loved?

The voice would prod, the voice would poke. It would fill his mind and burn out the good and leave a bleak and dark landscape. It would tell him he was a fraud, that he was fooling everyone. One day everyone would see how horrible he really was, how useless he really was. They would see that he had been deceiving them this whole time, he wasn't really anything special, and they would hate him for it. They should hate him for it.

Today was one of those bad days. He had woken up from an uneasy sleep, a steady but slow rise in his panic keeping him tossing and turning most of the night, and he was alone. Victor's side of the bed was cold and he knew, his mind knew, that Victor almost always woke up before him. The logical, rational side of him knew that this was not out of the ordinary, especially on a rare weekday off. That voice though… It said that he must have woken Victor, he must have disturbed Victor's sleep. It must be so annoying, having to sleep next to someone so restless, someone who couldn't keep a hold over themselves. The thoughts ran as he forced himself out of bed, threw on an old sweater to cover his bare chest, and made his way out of the bedroom.

The apartment was quiet which made him wonder if Victor was even home, until he saw the top of the silver head peaking over the couch. "Good morning." He called softly, not wanting to disturb.

His back arched to bring the rest of his face above the top of the couch and he smiled _that_ smile, the one only for Yuuri. "Good morning, sonnaya golova! There is breakfast on the counter for you. Come eat with me while I read!"

He nodded and slumped into the kitchen to get the bowl of yogurt, fruit, and granola prepared for him before moving back into the living room. Feet that were stretched out on the sofa moved to make room and the excess material of the throw blanket was lovingly placed over his lap. Victor smiled at him before leaning back to continue reading. It was all very nice, it should have all been very nice, but the voice. That damnable, little voice told him that it must have been such a bother to make breakfast for him, especially after being kept awake. He was intruding on Victor's solitude, only being invited to sit on the count because he left that he needed to include Yuuri, not because he really wanted to. He had slept in too late, he should have gotten some household chores done by now, since it was such a rare weekday off. Victor was irritated with him. He had to be! How could he not be?

Yuuri could feel he was sinking into himself. He could feel the beginnings of something that would spiral him into potentially days of a depressive, anxious void that would be so difficult to snap out of. He would be withdrawn and anger easily. Nothing his friends or Victor could tell him would break through. He would pick fights to prove the voice right; he was better alone. It was better for everyone, if he was alone. No one really needed him…

He took a deep, shaky breath as he stared at his untouched food. "Vic…Victor?" The name passed hesitantly from his lips.

"Yes, lyubov moya?" He placed the book down and sat up fully, wanting to give Yuuri his complete attention. "Is something wrong?"

Yuuri couldn't look at him, he kept his eyes fixed on the bowl in his hands. He licked his lips tentatively before he continued. "Are you… umm…. Are you mad at me?"

Victor smiled softly at him. "No, love." Was the gentle reply.

Yuuri looked up into Victor's blue eyes. "Irritated? Annoyed?"

"No and no, lapochka. I'm none of those things. I love you." He plucked the bowl from Yuuri's hands and set it on the coffee table before drawing the slightly smaller man into an embrace. He tenderly stroked the black hair and smiled contentedly.

"Mmm sorry" was mumbled into his chest.

"There isn't a need to be sorry. You know you can always ask. I don't take it personally." He nuzzled his nose into Yuuri's ear, earning a giggle in response. "I love you, all of you."

Yuuri smiled and cuddled in closer, signing a happy and relieved "Love you, too". The voice back in its corner and barely audible once again.

~~~~.~~~~~.~~~~

Translations (according to Google):

sonnaya golova = sleepy head

lyubov moya = my love

lapochka = sweetheart

Sorry if I got any of these wrong, I am completely reliant on Google Translate.

I have a lot of issues with anxiety and depression, which is something that makes me relate to Yuuri so much. The self-doubt and self-abuse can be hard to overcome by yourself. A partner who understands and meets you halfway can make everything so much easier. This is something my partner and I do; if I feel like he's mad or upset with me or I just get caught up in my own head, I can always ask. It doesn't matter if it's once or twenty times, I can always ask and just hearing "No, love, I'm not mad" or "No, that's not true. I love you" can save me hours if not days of an anxiety spiral. It always makes me feel better. I think Victor would be like this too which is what inspired me to write this.

I hope you enjoyed it! Please review and tell me what you thought!

Thanks for reading!


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